


Sometimes Babies Solve Nothing

by Jemsquash



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Multi, how do you parent something already in their grownup body and mind, mech parenting, they are pretty bad at it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemsquash/pseuds/Jemsquash
Summary: Parenting is not something that has ever been done on Cybertron. But the very last sparks of the planet were ignited prematurely by Optimus Prime opening the Matrix and it looks like the mechs those sparklings stole sentio metallico from are stuck with them.In the ruins of a post-war planet, the last generation of Cybertron deal with the mismatched trios each of them are stuck with and try to grow up, despite no transformer ever having to do so before.
Relationships: Brainstorm/Perceptor (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Some things in Cybertron never change.

Some things do, like having the very last sparks of new mechs rise from the core and demand hands-on parenting, but other things to not.

Like some ridiculous giant monster stomping around the city vowing to end the Cybertron threat once and for all.

“We’ve been at peace for over a vorn, didn’t they get the memo?” Muttered Brainstorm, frantically packing his escape briefcase.

“Three different breakaway groups declared war on the universe this last meta-cycle alone,” Perceptor said absentmindedly, focus never wavering from his scope. He’d have a clear shot on the monster’s third eye any klick now, and he wouldn’t miss.

“This is why no one on earth wants to subscribe to my channel.” Scramble informed the room at large, putting his recording equipment into the briefcase while Brainstorm got in the last crate of energon. The equipment was bigger than the mini-bot and the briefcase, but that didn't stop the small jet from shoving his belongings into the spacious depth of Brainstorm's luagage.

“No, it’s because your videos are terrible.” Micro informed his fellow mechling, standing next to Perceptor at the window, trying to see the monster through his own scope. Micromus Ambus repeated pleas that he too be reformated as a sniper had been refused but that didn't stop him from watching the battle with the same intensitiy as his sentio metallico donor.

“They are works of art!”

“They lack a clear purpose.”

“You lack a clear purpose.”

“Scraplings please,” Brainstorm clicked his briefcase shut, most of the household’s contents in it. “Fleeing for our lives now, discussions on the purpose of video in the current age later.”

Perceptor didn’t move his eyes from his target, didn’t react as Brainstorm walked over to him, just shy of physically touching him. A comforting brush of his electromagnetic field, was all Brainstorm allowed himself, knowing Preceptor was hyper-focused, all functions set to battle alertness.

“Fleeing? From that?” Micro said in a scaving tone as the monster turned to face a Combiner. Perceptor hissed under his breath and adjusted his aim to the monster's new position. “Reclaimer gets to fight, I should be allowed too!”

“Reclaimer’s Donors are the Constructicons, he has to be there for them to form Devastator,” Brainstorm said impatiently, “Get the doors Scramble!”

“Right Stormy,” Scramble had to run and jump to reach the button that opened the double doors of their home, on the other side of their day room. “Can I fly myself this time?”

“Not with Starscream's airforce about to come in. Come on Micro, we won’t get a good spot in the moon bunker if we wait!”

“I’m not going! I’m staying with my Donor!” Micro’s field brushed hard on Perceptor, making him lose his focus. “This time I’m staying!”

“No.” Perceptor said sternly, setting his gun against his side. “You are not,” He put a hand to Micro’s shoulder mount. “You will only distract me.”

Hurt flashed over Micro’s green face, followed quickly by shame. “Yes Donor, sorry.” His blue optics lowered to the floor. 

Perceptor tried to think of some comforting word, something to heal the harm his words had done, when the sound of crashing, much nearer than before, drew his attention. “Brainstorm! Take him!”

Micro didn’t fight, for once, when Perceptor picked him up and flung him at the already transforming jet. Micro landed on Scramble in Brainstorm’s closing cockpit and he was off, out the doors and up into the sky with the rest of the evacuating Cybertrons.

Perceptor pushed his guilt from his mind and trained his gun back on the monster. Brainstorm had survived the great war by always being somewhere else when danger loomed. That had been a comfort when they had conjunxed. That Brainstorm would not put himself in unnecessary danger, unlike so many others Perceptor had lost. He’d keep the mechlings safe.

And Perceptor would keep them safe as well, in his own way.

The monster came into range.

Perceptor opened fire.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need you all to understand I'm making this up as I go, I'm new to writing in this fandom, have no beta and the vocab is hard to remember.

Residual had transformed back and all signs of his frantic escape from home were gone when Ratchet opened the door.

“Who’s dead?” He immediately asked, despite Residual’s best attempt at a friendly smile.

“I...no one. Bar’s just slow to empty tonight and I need to sleep-”

“Re? What are you doing out at this hour?” Kerosene peered over Ratchet square shoulder at his age mate, “Didn’t Blurr clamp you again?”

“Oh yeah… but you know, he never keeps me home for too-” Residual stopped his stuttering as his optics registered what he was seeing, “Are you wearing cork on your finials?”

Kerosene moved back out of sight, but Residual ducked under Ratchet’s arm, ignoring his objections and came into the room to get a closer look at Kerosene’s bright helm.

His optics had not deceived him. Each of Kerosene’s long finials, all six of them and the sharp points of his spoiler too, had neat little cork caps on each tip. “I kept scratching my frame with them during recharge!" Kerosene said defensefully, "They’re normal, Rodimus told me lots of mech wear them!”

Residual felt a hysterical giggle rise from his voice box. Kerosene looked ridiculous. Kerosene who never left his home until he had polished himself so much his white plating reflected his red and gold, Kerosene who garnered more attention just by smiling than Residual did by climbing up on a table at Mccadam’s and shaking his aft to a recording of Functionalist hymns-

A sob got out Residual’s voice box before he could stop it. So much for Mirage’s court training-

“Re?” Kerosene stopped trying to hide his helm and tried to take Residual’s hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Blurr’s gonna kill Mirage!” Residual stepped back, away from Kerosene’s touch. Residual’s reflexes were a force unto themselves, especially when he was upset. 

“Mirage was special ops, he can take Blurr in a fight,” Ratchet’s voice came from behind them.

“He said I was an out of control Racer type and needed to be fixed,” Residual blurted out, despite all his plans to keep that part quiet. “He was joking.” He explained quickly, seeing Methan’s other donor, raise his helm slowly from the back of the room. He hadn’t seen Drift there meditating. “I clanged with Scuttlebut and then Goldback, and Mirage said it was crass to do two mechs the same night-.” 

That had hurt. Mirage and Blurr were not like some of the old mechs saddled with mechlings to raise, they had never tried to treat Residual like an organic youngling. Residual’s interface drive had come online the same time his plating had fully settled into their uniform dark blue, and as soon as Mirage had gotten his antivirus programs installed and Blurr had talked him through safe interface practice and clear consent Residual had had free reign to do what he liked with who he liked.

“-and then he said something about it again after closing, while we were cleaning up the bar. Something about Racer stables and the things Tower mech used to do to keep them from interfacing each other. Blurr-” Blurr had snapped a mop in half and jumped Mirage from behind, tackling him into a table of dirty cubes- “Blurr didn’t appreciate it.”

Residual had fled with the sound of Mirage trying to explain that he never kept Racers himself, he didn’t approve of keeping living mechs as pets, come on Blurr put down the gun! They were both Autobots!

“Right.” Drift stood, “I’ll go check on them.”

“And calm Blurr down,” Ratchet said firmly, “Not anything else.” 

Drift, racer type himself, hesitated. “Yes.” he said slowly and left, closing the open door behind him.

“He didn’t take his sword,” Kerosene sighed, guiding Residual into a chair. “That’s a good sign. Drift and Blurr were Wreckers together, he’ll get everyone calmed down.” He pulled out another chair and gestured Rachet into it, then turned to make them both something warm and comforting.

Residual stared down at the table and got his systems back under control. There was no reason to be this upset, he saw fights all the time in Maccadam’s. And pretty often in Mirage’s too, even though that bar was smaller in the upper floors and Mirage’s clientele pretended to be classier than Blurr’s.

“Maybe there _is_ something wrong with me,” he finally said. “I- maybe I- you don’t interface as much as me.” he said accusingly to Kerosene’s bobbing back, “And you’re two-thirds racer too.”

“The prejudice that racer types have higher interface drives is just because your fans are louder than other Cybertronians.” Ratchet told him bluntly. “The rest of us can muffle the sound, but racer’s can’t. So naturally they’re much more straightforward about wanting to interface. That’s all it is.”

“And I don’t interface much because it’s gross to clang somebot one of my doners did.” Kerosene gave Residual an insulated cube of steam, “And between Mr Party Ambulance here, ‘Let’s see Primus together’ Drift and Rodimus ‘let me light you up’ Prime, there are very few mechs at that haven’t clanged at least one of them over the years.” He gave Ratchet a scowl and his own drink and sat down daintily on the remaining chair. His finials swayed slightly from the weight of the cork caps.

“I haven’t clanged any of your donors.” Residual gave him a leer and tried to get his engine to rev. All this frank open talk was getting on his nerves.

Kerosene snorted into his cube of steam. Ratchet sighed tiredly, “Mechlings.” he muttered taking his cube and leaving the table.

“Just for that, you get to sleep in Rodimus’s room, not mine.” Kerosene said tartly, trying to inhale the steam floating around his face.

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“Next time I’m driving over to Flyback’s.” Residual muttered, glad the talking was over. He’d slip out the window once everyone went to recharge and head home. No matter what the outcome of the fight would be, no one would talk about it again and life would go back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it’s not clear: Blurr runs Maccadams, Mirage runs his own bar upstairs and they reluctantly live together for Residual’s benefit. Mostly the situation works, except when it doesn’t. Jazz is a shadow in the night, Residual barely knows him apart from sometimes waking up to find gifts of credits and music byts on his desk. 
> 
> Ratchet and Drift are conjunx Endura and live together in happily with Kerosene. Rodimus has work that keeps him off planet a lot but he has a room in their home and stays with his Amica and mechling often. Kerosene takes after Rodimus more than anyone else.
> 
> I’m not totally sold on Kerosene as a name. I wanted something flammable but useful and I liked it better than Paraffin. Feel free to send me suggestions and requests for this AU, I’m building as I go here.

**Author's Note:**

> Perceptor and Brainstorm have what looks like the nearest thing to a normal human family dynamic. They live together in New Iacon as Conjunx Endura with their two mechlings who, due to being minibots, look like younger mechs to organics.  
> However Micro (Microus Ambus is his full name) just takes after Minimus Ambus as a minibot and Scramble takes after Rewind likewise. They’ll never grow any bigger like organic youngsters, they are the size and shape they’ll always be, unless Micro manages to inherit the Magmus Armour.
> 
> Micromus Ambus (Minimus Ambus, Perceptor and another Wreaker) Minibot microscope filled with rage, has been known to covertly eye up big mechs on the off chance they die and he can get his own Magmus Armour. Very touchy about their size and wants to be a warrior. Wants to join the military and show everyone what a load-bearer without armor can do. On awkward terms with Minimus, lives with Perceptor, Brainstorm and Scramble.
> 
> Scramble (Brainstorm, Rewind and Chromedome) Minibot jet, wannabe movie maker. More relaxed than Micro about his size, mostly because Brainstorm gives him the best anti-bully toys. Usually, the one saying halfheartedly ‘no, don’t do it’ while filming as Micro gears up for another fight.


End file.
